You can't fast- forward heartbreak, and you can't rewind love—and, that's just one big bummer.Then Peter asked me a question: "Do you still call everything you love 'Chunk'? Peter knew me before I had a dog named Chunk, and before I lost my mother, whom I called Chunk. Even though I knew I wouldn't be having sex with Peter again, never mind getting back together, I was moved that someone I hadn't spoken to in so many years knew me so well.It's an amorphous cloud of time, and then it suddenly dawns on you that you haven't woken up thinking about him in a while, or wondered if he's laughing as much without you in his life.Realizing that those feelings have set in can be even sadder than the initial misery.While nothing overtly physical was seen, the source went on to add that both Handler and Flay were particularly “flirty” with each other.Furthermore, the two have never been seen together, making a simple friendship less likely.He thought I was too young and needy, while I thought he lacked passion and didn't understand why he didn't want me to sleep over every night.
(Which is what I walked in on 12 hours and four drinks after Peter and I split up, when I used my key to his apartment for the very last time, at a.m.
When the director of my documentary on marriage asked me which of my ex-boyfriends I would like to interview on camera, I told him, "We're going to have to hire an actor." I'm not friends with any of my exes, and I've never understood the appeal.
In fact, the only ex I ever considered myself to be on speaking terms with is the one person with whom I'd gone the longest without speaking: Peter. He was a tall, handsome British guy who would come into the Los Angeles restaurant where I waited tables and flirt with me.
His recollection, I soon found out, was that I forced myself on him and wouldn't give up until he agreed to be my boyfriend.
We were together for two and a half years, and then we weren't.